


Rituals

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Fluff & Angst [50]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Control Freakery, Hux Has Issues, Kylo wants to help, M/M, OCD elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 23:32:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8421937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Hux needs to be in control.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [r2q5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/r2q5/gifts).



There are rules that have to be followed. It’s how you know things will be okay. There are rules that have to be followed, like reading from an internal manual or set of regulations. It’s not like the troopers’ superstitions (it is), it’s… just… it’s not magical thinking, you need rules. You need rules, or you can’t… You just have to follow them, and that’s all.

Hux keeps the little rituals as low key as he can. Twenty steps from door to chair. Always the left leg first when he exits the door. Put the boots on in the right order. Check the lacing twice. Put the canteen dish the same way every time, eat the food in order. If there’s uneven numbers of things, discreetly put things right before you start. Check the tablet while you’re eating. Check it. And again. 

He’s not meaning to be rude. He knows Kylo is upset that he keeps breaking eye-contact to check things are going okay. Knows Kylo’s face falls every time the little alert light goes on and he _can’t not look_. But he’s important, and he needs to do things Right or everything will Fail.

It’s why the Starkiller fell. Not enough Checks. He hadn’t put in double-keying for the shield, and he hadn’t planned for bombing happening on the surface, and he hadn’t–

“Hux.”  


Kylo is looking at him like he’s ill or something. His hands on the tablet won’t let go of it, and he keeps glancing down, unable to–

“Hux… please put it down.”  


“I’m busy.”  


“You’re eating breakfast. Or… not.”  


“I’m busy,” he says, his face getting hot.  


“Hux, they can wait five– what the hell?”  


He gets up, ignoring the food, holding the tablet. “I’m not hungry.”

“Would you please just sit down and talk to me?”  


But Hux leaves before it becomes any more of a problem.

***

His favourite boots were destroyed when the - when - when it went -

These ones will do, but they are not his favourites, and as such he hates them. There’s an imperfection in the seam on the left little toe area, and once he saw it, he couldn’t unsee it. It feels like a press, a burn, a scratch and he really needs to get new ones. 

He also lost his favourite tablet and his mind, but one of those can be replaced and the other can’t.

(He’d been doing better. He had. He’d been able to put the tablet on the counter to the other side of the room and only feel discomfort and not dread while they ate, but he’d also _lost a whole planet_ so now he feels he has to make up for it so it doesn’t happen again…)

He just. 

He has to be in control. He needs to know things will go as planned. He needs to know he did everything he–

Twenty steps, left foot leading. Sit, adjust gloves. Ask for report, and–

Kylo storms onto the bridge in the middle of the report, and Hux continues his conversation even as Kylo tries talking over the top of him. He will _not_ let him speak until it’s time, and he won’t destroy any more of his Order.

Kylo stands right in front of him, and Hux feels the panic rising. Two things happening at once, and his mind just - it can’t - he can’t process because he’s in the middle of one thing and this is another thing and he can’t stop either and they run in parallel and they mix together like flooding paints and he can’t–

“I need to talk to you,” Kylo says.  


Die die die die die die die die die. Go away. Leave. Please.

“That will be all,” Hux tells the officer.  


Kylo does not move, and Hux won’t look at him. Hux is being ridiculous, he knows, but he also - he just - this is _not what he has planned for_ and as such his mind just hits a brick wall and gives a recurring feedback loop of not knowing what to do or say.

“Hux.”  


“Not now, Ren.”  


“If you don’t get up, I’ll–”  


“What? Carry me over your shoulder?” he sneers up at him, feeling the tightness in his chest and the itch in his hands. “Grow up.”  


He did not expect Kylo to actually _do it_. He’s the **General**. He’s the **GENERAL** and now the over-grown turncoat baby has hold of him and flings him over his shoulder like he’s nothing. He screams, grabbing for his blaster, terrified that none of the bridge crew even _flinch_ (is that Kylo? Do they not see or hear?) as he’s dragged out of the room.

Kicking and clawing, fighting against invisible hands, he doesn’t stop fighting until he’s shoved down into a chair. He swipes at Kylo’s mask, terror making his judgement cloud and his hands act without thought. 

 _There’s no magical ritual for this_.

Hands grab his wrists, and he doesn’t like being overpowered, his eyes wide and unhappy. “LET ME GO.”

“Not until you’re calmer. You’re hurting yourself.”  


“I AM WORKING. LET ME GO YOU MASSIVE OAF, YOU FORCE-USING BULLY. YOU’RE JUST A MONSTER AREN’T YOU? DO YOU USE THE FORCE ANY TIME SOMEONE DOESN’T DO WHAT YOU ASK THEM TO?”  


It is designed to hurt. It works. Kylo pulls back, and Hux is left to vibrate angrily like an oscillating weapons unit charging on his own. Kylo still looms over him, and he doesn’t like the feeling of being so small in his shadow, but he’s also too close to stand up comfortably. Threat-panic thrills unhappily through him, and…

“I’m worried about you,” Kylo says, his body slumping into itself.  


Hux knows how to hurt him. Hux has always known how to hurt him.

“I’m _fine_.”  


“You’re barely sleeping, you’re barely eating, and you’re on that tablet all day and night.”  


“I’m very busy with my work.”  


“You’re making yourself _sick_ ,” Kylo pleads.  


(Hux knows. He knows, but he can’t… he can’t… process that information. Not right now. Not right now he can’t. Denial is easier. Denial is safer.)

“I need to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”  


He watches in confusion as Kylo sinks to his knees, the tall nightmare breaking. 

It’s not the accusation of assault and control that’s shattered him, is it? It’s the inability to help him. It’s being forced to watch Hux hurt, and the realisation makes his whole fucking heart explode and no no no no no no no he can’t deal with it, he can’t, he can’t, it’s–

“I’m just… it’s work, I need to–”  


“Please,” Kylo begs, his hands clawing at his own knees. “Please, Hux. This isn’t helping. You’re sick. I just want to help you. It’s _killing me_ to watch you tear yourself apart.”  


“I’m n-not.” He is.  


He is. He’s functioning on caf and neurosis. He’s terrified of what will happen if he misses the slightest ritual, if he varies from the plan. He’s building redundancy after redundancy after redundancy, and keeping his mind occupied with things he can control so he feels some sense of accomplishment, but he _knows_ it’s avoiding something deeper. He knows he’s making rules about which mug he uses because he can pretend that’s what victory is. Because he’s failed. He’s failed, and he can’t - he has to - he can’t -

“I don’t know how to stop,” he admits. “It hurts when I don’t do the things.”  


“Let me try to help?” Kylo begs. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to - but… please?”  


“ _I don’t know how to stop_ ,” Hux says again, the shreds of words dragged out from his ribs, bloody and raw.   


The Knight launches into his arms, pressing him into the chair, and they hold on tight to one another. Hux is somewhere between feeling nothing at all, and feeling every fear simultaneously. His mind bounces back and forth and he’s so worn out, so very worn out.

“Let me help,” Kylo begs again, again, again.   


“Just keep saying it doesn’t do anything!”  


“Then… then…” Kylo clutches tighter. “How do we do this? You were… you weren’t this bad before.”  


‘This bad’. Hah. Because even someone like Kylo Ren can tell he’s running on stupid rules, when he’s ‘well’. Wonderful. Does everyone know?  


“I don’t know.”  


“…would… it help if you… if you tell me why you do things?”  


“Some of them I don’t know why.” It’s hard to admit. “I just do.”  


“Okay. Okay. So.” Kylo is stroking over his neck as he speaks. “What about if when you do them I try to distract you?”  


“…no.” It’s dull on his tongue, but he knows it’s too much to ask, so soon.  


“What about we try to delay things? If you feel you want to do something, you let me know, and we try to delay it as long as possible, but when you need to do it, you do? And… if you can delay it longer and longer… maybe you can stop?”  


“But if I need to?”  


“Then you do it. But if you can hold out even thirty seconds longer each time…”  


That… could work. It might hurt a lot, but it could work.

“…you think I’m ridiculous,” Hux says, without any intonation at all.  


“No. I think you’re under a lot of pressure, and you’re trying to feel okay.”  


“I’m being ridiculous.”  


“…maybe,” Kylo says, his voice so full of acceptance. “But it’s just how you’re trying to cope. I don’t think you’re ridiculous. I think you’re fighting really hard, and I want to help you.”  


Hux tries to process that, but he can’t quite. It’s far away, and he’s cold. He burrows into Kylo’s arms, ashamed and afraid. The fingers soothing him are warm and forgiving, a forgiveness he doesn’t deserve. 

“You’ll get tired of me,” Hux whispers.  


“Only if you get tired of me. You’ve helped me enough, haven’t you?”  


True. At times Kylo frustrates the life out of him and he needs some space, but he still goes back when he feels able to. Maybe… he could…

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into his clothed neck.  


“Don’t be. I just want to help you. However you need.”  


He’s still so cold, and he feels the bridge just beyond the door. He wants to go back, can feel the itch of it around his mind. But he has to fight it, has to remember they can function for an hour without him. He burrows into the black, and takes a slower breath.

He’s going to fight the rituals. They don’t really help at all.


End file.
